


Time Can Do So Much

by alethememe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Inspired by Twist and Shout - gabriel & standbyme, M/M, Twist and Shout is not mine, TwistandShout!Cas, TwistandShout!Dean, i just really like it, so I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:03:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alethememe/pseuds/alethememe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, Cas.”, Dean started, tucking the camera back into it’s respective case as he spoke, “ Despite what you told me—on the day you died, I-I never could let go of you. Hell, I’ve tried, Cas. God knows how hard I tried to move away from our apartment, to start  new life—But I can’t, everything I do always brings me back to you” ,He coughed a laugh, “Kinda funny how it all worked out, huh?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Can Do So Much

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twist and Shout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/537876) by [gabriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriel/pseuds/gabriel), [standbyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/standbyme/pseuds/standbyme). 



> Hey guys! This is my first thing I've ever done on here and also the first time I've hunkered down and wrote something about destiel. I'd love to thank my friend, ithinkiminsane (Tumblr) kitty3721 (ifunny) for going over this for me. 
> 
> Note: I did not write 'Twist and Shout'! It belongs to its amazing writers. This is just a little thing that I wrote because I was so inspired and moved by it. 
> 
> I tried to make it as true to the story as possible. The song featured in it is "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers.  
>  Please drop a comment to tell me what you think! C:   
> Enjoy the feels!

May, 1981-

Dean took a languid draw from his cigarette, letting hang in his lip for a moment to savor the bitter black taste of tar and cloudy haze that had settled over his subconscious.   The smoke pillared up to the ceiling, spilling out to the corners of the apartment. Dean would never think of leaving, this place held too many of their memories, even the ones not documented on their day at the beach.

 

 It was more or less the same than when he first came back from ‘Nam, besides how bleak  everything seemed to be now.  Dean really did make his best effort to preserve their apartment. He watered the overgrown plant, even though Cas never had time to when Dean was shipped out; he was too swamped with schoolwork to notice.  Dean even gutted out the fridge for a good cleaning, he tossed out the spoiled food and replaced it with the chop suey from Van’s noodle shop that he knew Cas adored, even though Dean didn’t feel like eating much these days.

Dean knew what was missing. His name was a beat that was as steady as the white-capped waves that kept crashing onto the shore , he tried his best to shove it back into the darkest corners of his brain, along with the horrifyingly vivid memories of loosing Adam.

 It was the same person  that curled his wool sock covered feet around his chair when he was nose-deep in one of his lengthy medical textbooks, pushing his oversized glasses up the bridge of his nose.   The  person who complained about the ongoing war while he scraped the dirt brown sludge from what was left of his cheap instant coffee into the sink.   _Cas_.  He couldn’t be replaced by the throw pillows Dean put in the couch to compensate for the missing space or the the extra clothes he put in the closet to make it seem less empty.  Cas was supposed to be there so Dean wouldn’t have to fill up the ragged gap that he left behind.                                                      

 

 

                                                                                     ———————————

 

 

The record spun to life with a familiar click, filling the entire apartment with Elvis’ gentle and sonorous voice. Dean’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He promised he’d never listen to that song again.   _Any song but this one._ It felt as if someone had wrapped a thick rope around his throat and then yanked it, leaving Dean gasping for breath.  An onslaught of rushed  through Dean, like a dam about to burst, tears rimming his eyes.  He gasped as Elvis proceed on to the second verse.

No. Dean couldn’t listen to this, the wound from Cas’ death was still angry red, infected by guilt and grief. He hurriedly flicked the record player off, Elvis’ voice slowing to a stop in mid-song.  He was jerked back to the present by a shy knock at the door.

Dean wiped the unshed tears off with the sleeve of his leather jacket, plastering on a smile in an effort to compose himself. “Hello?”, Dean asked, cracking the door open. He was greeted by Molly, one of the tenants who lived next to him. Dean remembered her from when he first arrived home after ‘Nam, she was so young then.  Now, her face was more filled out, still maintaining that innocent look of a young child by the way she wore a pink satin bow in her hair. “Hello Mr.Winchester”, Molly said jovially, “My Nanna said to give you this”. She thrust an aluminum covered pan into Dean’s hand.   “Nanna said that you lost someone…. and she gives you her condolences”, her happy smile faded for a second, “Oh, and it’s apple pie. Some little bird told me that it was your favorite thing to eat!”.

He said some sort of thank you then opened the door. “ You can help me eat this, if you want. It’s a helluva thing to eat by myself and-”. Molly nodded enthusiastically and ushered herself in his apartment, taking the liberty to seat herself down.  Dean cut the pie into two slices, careful to not let the soggy apple slivers slide out of the flaking crust.  His slice was significantly smaller than Molly’s, she didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re awfully quiet, Mr.Winchester”, Molly added through mouthfuls of pie, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. “Dean”, he murmured, “Please, just call me Dean”.  It seemed too similar to what the people in his old platoon used to call him.

The rest of the time they were silent, Molly seemed perfectly content with  eating the pie and Dean was just happy that someone else besides himself was in the apartment. Molly’s eyes wandered around the apartment, soaking in the details as if his place was an exhibit in a museum. “Ohh what’s that?”, she pointed to the record player resting near the window, her eyes sparkling with curiosity  that reminded Dean of someone that he couldn’t quite name.  She rushed over, her bow bobbing helplessly as she went, tapping the needle of the record player experimentally.

  “Hey, be careful with that! Don’t touch that! Don’t ever touch that!”, Dean barked, his voice low but vehement.

Molly took an uneasy step back from the record player, her face flushed, her heavily lashed eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights.  And with that, she fled back to her own apartment. Dean never spoke to her again.                                          

                                                                                       ——————————————

 

Dean didn’t know when he decided, but he felt it was time to visit the beach.   _Their beach._  Dean drove up there at the crack of dawn, singing a song he heard playing at the radio in his garage he had worked at, the old polaroid clanking around at his feet as the car bumped over the uneven road, a record player securely strapped in the backseat.

Dean felt out of place when he first set foot on the rocky shore, but the same time, a flood of recognition and nostalgia.  The constant weight of the polaroid at his hips reminded him that this place was sacred, priceless memories and moments nestled in every rustle of a seagull’s feather or in the dark crevices of the tide pools where starfish and clams adhered to rocks.  It felt like he belonged here.

He pulled his red parka closer over his frail frame, the wind had picked up and filtered through his close cut blonde hair.    _Oh, my love, my darling. I’ve hungered for your touch a long, lonely time._ Dean unzipped the beige case slung around his shoulder, holding the old polaroid with reverence and polishing the lens with the corner of his shirt.  He looked through the view finder, only seeing an unsteady  view of what he could be seeing without the camera.   _And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?_  For a brief second, he swore he could see Cas through the camera, smiling  sheepishly and looking back at Dean with his childish blue eyes. He looked so healthy, he had light behind his eyes and a certain fullness of his cheeks that had been long lost.  Goddammit, Dean never realized how much his missed staring into them until he realized that he never could again.

 

“You know, Cas.”, Dean started, tucking the camera back into it’s respective case as he spoke, “ Despite what you told me—on the day you died, I-I never could let go of you. Hell, I’ve tried, Cas. God knows how hard I tried to move away from our apartment, to start  new life—But I can’t, everything I do always brings me back to you” ,He coughed a laugh, “Kinda funny how it all worked out, huh?”

 

Dean found a shell that had washed up on the beach, half buried in sand.  He picked it up, inspecting it.  It was a mussel, as to the extent of Dean’s marine life knowledge, it was long, jet black, and had thin white arches that looked painted on by a skilled artisan. _I need your love. I need you love. Godspeed your love to me!_ The mussel shell itself reminded Dean of Cas’ hair, at least when Cas was heathy , it retained it’s natural luster then.

 Dean rummaged through the camera case one more time to pull out a wad of folded paper.  He unfolded the even square and smoothed over the white creases where he had reopened the paper many times before.   _Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea. To the open arms of the sea!_ It was Cas’ letter.

 

Cas’ soul wasn’t really buried at the funeral, he didn’t belong in the ground. Cas wasn’t even meant to be buried at all, at least, not this soon in his life.  Back on their first day at the beach, they promised they’d grow old together and complain about the world, sitting in their front porch, looking past their white picket fence as a record played softly in the background. Dean could at least give this much to him instead.  He dug a hole with his hands in the sand, measuring approximately the size of a baseball.

 “This one’s for you, Cas. This is for waiting for me”, Dean smiled weakly as he kissed the folded up wad of paper gently.  He placed it in the hole and covered it up. Cas could rest here with the shells and the waves.

This was the day he’d take Cas back to their beach.

It’s like Cas said, he’d always kept his promises.


End file.
